Pairing: Tintin/Haddock
Summary: "By the third time that Tintin begged to be tied up during sex, Haddock knew that the lad wasn't planning on giving in"
Rating: NC-17
Warning:Bondage, cock-blocking, humiliation, dub-con, non-con roleplay

By the third time that Tintin begged to be tied up during sex, Haddock knew that the lad wasn't planning on giving in.

"But why on earth would you want to be trussed up like a turkey?" Haddock asks, eyeing Tintin warily.

Tintin sighs, pacing around the room, kneading his hair with slender fingers. He makes several rotations that make Haddock a little dizzy before stopping. "It's just a game of trust, Captain. I trust you. I want you to be forceful. Make me take it, even if I resist."

He adds, still not looking at Haddock, too embarrassed to see his face, "And don't let me know ahead of time when you're going to do it. Surprise me."

Haddock hesitates. "But…" he takes Tintin's awful posture into account, "aye."

-One hour earlier-

Haddock always assumed that the sex was adequate. Hell, he thought it was downright passionate. Tintin's just a difficult lad to please.

"I'm not in the mood, Captain." Tintin snaps, swatting Haddock's hand away. They're lounging on the sofa in Marlinspike Hall and Haddock was just leaning over and cupping Tintin's cock through his tight plus-fours.

Haddock scoffs, taking his hand back. "When was the last time you were in 'the mood'?" before Tintin can open his mouth in protest, he continues, "a man has needs you know… I bet you enjoy being a little rosy-cheeked devil, giving a sailor a hard time." Haddock migrates to the opposite end of the sofa, away from Tintin, arms crossed. He mumbles to himself angrily and Tintin narrows his eyes.

"You just don't understand. I need more than just this. I need something... different."

Haddock misunderstands him, standing upright and shouting, "blasted barnacles! Are you trying to cut me loose?"

Tintin flinches at his tone and realizes the mere idea of not having Haddock in his life would downright scare him, but swiftly composes himself, posture and all. He doesn't look at Haddock when he speaks. "No, that's not it at all. I just think what we do in bed is too- common."

Haddock's eyebrows knit together in confusion and he seats himself, closer to Tintin. "Out with it, laddie."

Tintin's cheeks turn a light shade of scarlet. "The truth is, I like it when those filthy brutes tie me up. Sometimes I get a little… excited. It gives me a thrill. Sometimes I wonder if they'll do more than bind me, maybe they'll try to fondle me. Oh God, I wish they would be rough with me, I wish you would be more rough with me."

Tintin's voice is on such a high octave that he squeaks at the end of the sentence. He covers his face in embarrassment, rubbing his eyelids as an excuse for not making eye-contact with Haddock.

Haddock's eyes are wide, and his heart is beating at a rapid pace. He only hears Tintin speak. He hears him say how he's too cautious to go looking for trouble. He hears him talk about how he knows what goes on in the city alleyways at night, smirking at that. Haddock hears him say bluntly that he wants to be raped. How he desperately needs release. It's been plaguing his mind for what feels like an eternity and he needs someone to just hold him down and make him take it.

"You're the only one I trust, Captain."

"I'll consider it, lad" Haddock says, breathlessly. Taking this as a "yes", Tintin smiles nervously, wiping his sweaty palms on his plus-fours. He leaves the room, allowing Haddock to think things over. It's as if he's run a marathon, his throat is parched, so he reaches for a glass of whiskey and downs it in one go. He wipes the sweat off his brow.

There's a clanking and whirring sound in his head and horrified, he realizes that it's just his brain concocting a plan that will satisfy Tintin. He really does want to make Tintin happy. And if forcing him into something as unspeakable (well, not anymore) will make him happy, so be it.

-The next day-

Haddock's laying back in his lawn-chair, smoking a pipe and Tintin is reading a book on a blanket in the grass, Snowy at his side. Haddock makes eye-contact with him occasionally, but Tintin's always the first to duck his head down, into his book.

Haddock gradually plans the game. A part of him wouldn't dream of hurting Tintin like that, wouldn't even dream of being the one to put fear in his eyes. But another part is curious, will Tintin actually enjoy it? Will Haddock enjoy it? He's stricken by anxiety. He's worried that if he enjoys it, he'll become addicted to the power and Tintin will hate him for that. His addictions always end up hurting the lad.

Tintin assured him that he should just act impulsively, no boundaries, no self-control. God knows Haddock is good at that, he's good at losing control, but he always comes back, Tintin always brings him back. Even the worst drunken stupor, Tintin can sober him up with a firm, disappointed look.

Yet, Tintin said that he should only think of his own needs. Tintin wants him to be a sailor blinded by lust. Can Haddock surrender to that? Won't that make him a monster? He practically feels the wiring in his brain short-circuit when Tintin approaches him, smiling shyly.

"The safe-word is Milou" Tintin whispers into Haddock's ear before setting off with Snowy, back into the house. Haddock's jaw goes slack and the pipe nearly falls out, but he steadies it with a shaky hand. Only the sight of Tintin's hips swaying back and forth calms him down, a little.

Tintin tells him later that unless he says the word, there's no need for Haddock to drop out of his role.

-Two days later-

There were a few times where Tintin was certain that Haddock would surprise him with a tackle, a swipe of a hand, anything. But Haddock himself knew that the timing wasn't right, so Tintin had to suppress the urge to jump into the Captain's lap, pull out his large cock and sit on it- instead waiting impatiently for Haddock to be ready.

Occasionally, when they were alone in the room, Haddock would feel a false sense of readiness. Like today for example. He wipes his hands on his slacks and stands up. And just like that- the feeling disintegrates when Snowy shuffles, barking, into the room. Tintin is too busy laughing and petting his companion contently to notice Haddock plop back down, tightening his fists in his lap.

-The day after that-

Now, Nestor surely didn't intend to make matters worse, the butler was faithful to Haddock after all. But when Tintin's reading one of his adventure novels, oblivious to Haddock's intense gaze, Nestor shouldn't have the right to simply burst in yelling "Sir! The garden! Ransacked! The begonias! Simply terrible! Just terrifying!"

Granted, he was trying to speak quickly, each word still came between heavy breaths, and by the time he finished, Haddock was ready to fall on a cutlass.

Tintin shoots a glare Haddock's way when he doesn't make a move to help Nestor. "Nestor, calm down" he coos, patting the butler on his shoulder. He holds the butler's shaking arm and slowly walks him to the garden. "Tell me what happened. Who ransacked the garden?"

Leave it to Nestor to cockblock Haddock with blasted begonias. He reached for the bottle and gulped down the rest of the wine as he was forced to listen to Nestor's mental breakdown and Tintin consoling him with a steady, soothing voice.

-Much, much later in the week-

And then there was Calculus. That madman would be the death of Haddock's good nature.

"Don't you have something that needs blowing-up?" Haddock whispers harshly when he sees that Tintin's alone in the kitchen.

"Borrowing my cup? Why, Captain, you have loads of cups!" Calculus happily replies. Haddock has a vivid daydream of ripping the man's head off and throwing it across the room. He has never felt this violent in his life.

"NO! Thundering typhoons! You deranged lunatic!" Tintin's suddenly in the doorway, peering curiously at the two men. Haddock groans angrily, indeed another opportunity lost, nearly tripping over the sofa as he storms out of the house.

Calculus raises his glasses and squints. "Why on earth would he need a lock-pick?" He pauses, looks at Tintin, "I fear that the Captain is turning to a life of crime."

Tintin scoffs and pats the madman's shoulder, "you have no idea."

"Going to North Korea? Oh my, that is criminal. We have to stop him at once!" flustered, Calculus puts his glasses back on. He flails when realizing that he's alone.

-Many agonizing days later-

It's late, the sun has set long ago, and the crickets chirp jovially and hop about with Snowy in fast pursuit, who runs into the bushes multiple times.

Tintin's getting ready for bed in the living room.

Once he's pulled on his pajamas, he flops onto his stomach. The couch creaks, resisting his weight. He'd left Haddock outside to finish his last glass of whisky for the night. Tintin closes his eyes and sighs, he could use a massage - his muscles are extremely tight. Their last adventure was quite strenuous. He recalls the bronze scepter and having to release the evil spirit inside by going all the way to Egypt. Then, they had to sail back to return it to the British Museum in London. Yes, quite strenuous indeed.

He's nestled into the couch cushion quite nicely and his eyelids flutter as he fights back sleep. He's about to drift off when he feels a hand on the small of his back.

"Mmm, Captain" he eases into the touch, arching his spine like a cat. But the hand's weight presses down on him uncomfortably. "Ugh, what are you-"

"Shut up." Haddock interrupts with a voice that's a lot deeper and scratchier than Tintin's used to. Those few drinks he's had allow him to loosen up a bit.

Tintin is baffled at first, but when he understands- that doesn't stop him from panicking. His natural instinct is to fight back. He kicks upward, blatantly missing Haddock. His limbs feel heavy, as if filled with water. Haddock grunts, instantly wrapping his arms around Tintin's waist and hoisting him up.

A few ducked punches and missed kicks have Haddock growing impatient. "Stop thrashing about, floozy."

Tintin tumbles, earning a mouthful of carpet. His head is dizzy with excitement and most prominently- fear. And he's just about to run, but Haddock is one step ahead. He yanks Tintin's arms back and pushes all his weight onto him. The pressure has Tintin's shoulders aching, his arms pulled back, threatening to come away from the socket.

"If I run, punish me."

Haddock shifts about and Tintin feels his weight lift a little. He tries to catch Haddock by surprise, but the Captain reads his mind and his arms are abruptly pinned again. He gasps, spitting carpet fibers, outspokenly quite impressed by the old man's reflexes.

He feels rope being wrapped around his wrists in several complex loops. His fingers become a little numb and he grimaces when he tries to pull the bonds apart with no avail. The feeling of helplessness gives him a thrill that runs down to his cock. He shifts awkwardly as the cloth tightens across his erection, but Haddock either doesn't notice or doesn't care as he hoists Tintin to his feet by his arms.

"Upstairs, now."

As a silent challenge- Tintin doesn't budge.

"If I don't obey, hit me."

He lets out a small whine when he's whirled around and slapped. He sees stars and has no time to recuperate when he's being pushed towards the staircase with a firm hand around his neck. One finger is stroking down the top of his spine in an unnerving way. Another hand is fondling his arse through his pajamas.

"Move it, cunt."

Tintin blushes and starts to walk on shaky legs. His knees knock and he nearly trips on a stair, but Haddock pulls him back up and inches him on. "Y-you don't have to do this" Tintin stutters, genuine tears stinging his eyes. Haddock ignores him.

Once they're in the bedroom, Haddock shoves him onto the bed, face-first. Tintin gets a breath of fresh soap and tobacco on the sheets. He inhales and holds the cloth between his teeth when Haddock latches on to his waistband.

He pulls Tintin's pajama bottoms off in one go, scraping his skin along the way. Tintin bites back a small scream. "Yes, you're my little tart aren't yeh? I'm gonna fuck yeh so nice and hard, gonna have yeh begging for it." Haddock's leaning against Tintin, breathing hotly against his neck. One hand slides to Tintin's arse, teasing. "You'll be my little journalist, my floozy."

"Humiliate me."

"Please- stop" he chokes. Haddock pauses for a moment. Tintin expects him to actually listen for a second, but he cries out as his head is yanked back by the hair and Haddock breathes against his mouth. "A man has needs, remember?" He chuckles before pulling Tintin in for a kiss.

Their teeth clank and Haddock makes sure to bite him several times to make his claim; he knows how much Tintin hates when the bites are visible afterwards- it embarrasses him. So Haddock leaves bites on his neck, not enough to make a mark, but enough to hurt. Tintin's limbs are becoming unresponsive, and he's losing the will to fight more and more.

Eventually, he becomes docile. Haddock shifts off of him and Tintin turns his head curiously. Haddock comes back with a bottle in his hand; he doesn't want to hurt the lad too much.

He thinks for a moment and decides to untie Tintin's hands. Tintin is confused now. "No sweetheart, I ain't lettin' yeh go." Haddock grabs on to his wrists tightly, they feel so thin and fragile between large sailor hands, pulling his arms in front of him and ties them together again.

"I want to see some more of that beautiful alabaster skin of yers," he verifies, laughing. But he honestly just doesn't want to hurt Tintin's arms.

He grips Tintin's pajama top and starts yanking it over his head. Being that the restraints are in the way, it simply pools at his wrists. Haddock loops an arm around his waist and Tintin struggles as he's forced onto his knees. He tries to support himself on his fists, but only manages on his elbows.

Tintin has never felt so ashamed with his arse in the air and now Haddock grinning behind him with two fingers coated in oil. Cheeks and ears turned many shades of scarlet, Tintin whimpers helplessly, "please, stop, please."

The voice, so timid and miniscule, like a small boy, trapped. Haddock dies a little when hearing that voice. He almost breaks. Almost. He pulls himself together, remembering his role. "If you're not going to use your mouth to suck my cock, just don't speak at all" he spits, amazed that those filthy words came out of his own mouth.

Tintin is baffled. He's also distracted, but his attention reverts back when a large fingers, likely the thumb, is breaching him. The rugged nail scrapes him enough to wish that he insisted that Haddock cut his nails while sober.

His moans are muffled by the sheets with what sounds like a mix of pleasure and pain, but Haddock knows it's mostly pleasure. He hopes.

Haddock twists and curls his finger experimentally and Tintin jolts with every sharp movement. A hand pushes against his back and he's pinned down. Haddock slides his finger in and out, slicking Tintin's arse with oil.

He stops and pulls his thumb out, replaces it with his index and middle and repeats. He knows that Tintin wants this; he's assured when Tintin whines, squeezing down onto his fingers just before he has a chance to pull out all the way.

"Ah, the floozy likes to be finger-fucked, I see."

Tintin is breathing heavily, almost rasping like a man dying of thirst. Body sagging, his cock presses awkwardly into the mattress, leaking and begging to be touched.

With his attentive hearing, he catches a zip! and Haddock is pushing his trousers down just enough to pull his cock out. He revels in the free feeling; it's as good, if not better, than a drop of whiskey. He strokes himself, coating his cock with oil, sighing contently. The captain subconsciously licks his lips at the sight before him, tasting sweat.

Tintin's legs are splayed apart with a knee. His lower body is pulled up with a strong arm and his back curves in an enticing way.

He scrambles to support himself when Haddock steadies his hips, spreads his arse with his thumbs and pushes right into him. His muscles resist, but eventually, Haddock is seated all the way inside.

"Don't hesitate, just take me."

Nails are digging into Tintin's skin, leaving half-moon shapes, and he can't ignore the pleasant ache of his body. He's grateful that Haddock actually prepared him, having had a fear of being ripped open, but deep down he knew that his Captain would never even dream of hurting him like that. At the same time he marvels at the dull pain from not being prepared enough.

Haddock suddenly pulls out and then snaps his hips forward again. Tintin moans as the movement presses his cock further into the mattress. The friction nearly drives him insane.

"Ah, yes, so tight and warm, my little princess" Haddock lightly slaps Tintin's arse. Tintin gasps and jerks forward, he feels close. He wasn't even aware of how hard he was clenching his teeth until he opens his mouth and Haddock slips two fingers in.

"Suck, sweetheart" and he complies. He's not sure why he's doing it, but at this point, he'll obey any order.

He gets his answer when the fingers recede from his mouth with a little dribble of spit down his chin, his arse is spread more and the fingers are pushed into him, alongside Haddock's cock. He's never felt such a stretch before. It's sharp. It's painful. It's magnificent.

He has to restrain himself from pushing back against Haddock's cock and fingers. Mostly, he wouldn't even be able to move much, the captain's body is doing quite a job at trapping him against the mattress.

Tintin feels Haddock hit that particular toe-curling spot inside of him. He finally comes with a loud "oh!"

"Forget about my release. Don't stop until you've released."

Haddock keeps going at a restless pace, panting. He has a difficult time keeping a rhythm up with both fingers and cock, the thrusts becoming shallow. So he pulls his fingers out and rams Tintin into the mattress, going deeper. Tintin makes small, strained noises, suppressing them by biting into the rope.

His arms get most of the strain and he wishes Haddock would finish before he gets hard again or at least before his arms crackle and snap beneath him.

Haddock moans and comes hard, scraping the skin beneath his rugged fingernails. He fucks Tintin through his orgasm before he pulls out abruptly, Tintin winces just as expected, and strikes the lad's arse again. This time, Tintin's legs give in and he collapses onto his side. His muscles feel relieved from having to support him for so long. His arms feel slightly cramped, so he extends them.

"Just leave me, make me feel dirty."

"You were so good, Tintin, so good. You please your Captain well." Even as he says it, the words sound foreign on his tongue.

Haddock leaves. Once he shuts the door, he just stands there. He still sees Tintin's tear-stained face. He feels Tintin's muscles tighten and resist him. But then he remembers Tintin's eyes. Those eyes were never full of hurt. Whenever he could actually see Tintin's eyes, he saw only want.

And how Tintin tightened around him, didn't want to let him go. But what if he hurt him too much? What if Tintin was too embarrassed to use the safe-word? Oh God.

After a minute or two of nail-biting anxiety, Haddock stumbles back into the room. Tintin hasn't moved and his eyes are closed. Once Haddock's hands are on him, they open. Tintin doesn't flinch as Haddock expected, he doesn't look at him with disgust, he doesn't tell him to go away and never come back—he simply smiles.

"Captain? Come to rescue me I suppose?"

Haddock is all wide eyes and apologies as he unties Tintin with unsteady hands. "Thundering typhoons! Are you hurt? I'm so sorry. Was I too rough?" The bed dips when Haddock sits down beside Tintin, embracing the lad from behind. A kiss for both wrists. And a kiss on Tintin's forehead. He strokes Tintin's raw, chafed wrists affectionately with his thumb.

Tintin chuckles lightly. "It's okay. I'm fine. You don't have to apologize for anything." He squeezes Haddock's larger hands in his. "I wanted this, remember?"

"But if it was too much? I would never forgive myself if I hurt you too much, Tintin lad."

"It was good. I liked it, liked it a lot." Tintin murmurs sleepily. Haddock believes him, despite the nagging guilt.

The trust, the longing, it suffocates Haddock's heart. He changes tune. "You're safe. You're with me now, I'll protect you." His arms wrap around Tintin's body as a shield and he pulls a blanket over them, Tintin curls his lips into a smile, feeling completely at ease for the first time.

"So, when are we doing this again?" he suddenly pipes up.

Haddock splutters, "Blistering barnacles! Let a man recover from the first time! Already talking about a second…."

Tintin smiles coyly and uses a finger to stroke down the Captain's arm. "Soon then?" He laughs when Haddock groans with frustration. "You're a persistent lad… yes, right when I'm emotionally stable again."

"Now that's the selfish Captain I know!" Tintin mocks. Haddock doesn't miss a beat; he squeezes Tintin's arse firmly, enjoying the squeak, followed by stunned silence. "That'll teach you" Haddock reprimands playfully.

Maybe this idea of Tintin's wasn't so bad after all.